My Little Dumpster Gremlin [Spamton G. Spamton x Reader Crackfic]

[Chapter: 3]

You stepped up to the door of your residence, which was tucked away in a small neighborhood that sat behind Queen's castle. The homes in the area were mainly reserved for anyone who worked there or who was a guest of the mansion. Seeing as how you were one of the maids that worked under Swatch, you had a spot reserved especially for you.

Your house wasn't big, although it wasn't exactly small either. It was a reasonable size, with a ground floor, an upstairs, and a rather spacious downstairs. You considered it a luxury, however, it was nothing compared to some of the larger houses down the street.

You sighed and raised your house key to the keyhole, the many keys on the ring jingling in your palms. You glanced back at the tiny little scrunkly of a man who stood idly behind you, smiling, you twisted the key and swung the door open.

"Well, here we are." You stated simply, motioning inside with an arm, the other resting on your hip.

You could see Spamton's grip on his er... beloved pet, tighten somewhat as he stared inside.

"Well go on," You encouraged, making Spamton slightly jump. "I swear my house doesn't bite. At least uh... not anymore." You placed a hand on the nape of your neck sheepishly. "Just pretend I didn't say that. Come on in."

You made your way inside, plopping your heavy set of keys on the kitchen counter with a loud jangle. You slowly gazed around the room, trying to inconspicuously glance down at spamton every once in a while to see his reaction. You could swear that you could see his eyes sparkling behind his heterochromatic glasses.

"So, what do you think?" You asked. Your house was dull and all too familiar to you, although, to Spamton, this must seem like heaven.

"This is your [Humble abode?] This is such a [Mansion for you and your family for 25% off!!!]" He began to scurry around the room in a joyous hurry, looking at this, and touching that.

He scrambled his way onto your couch and you hurridly walked over to him and picked him up by the collar of his leather jacket. "Okay, you don't get couch privileges until you bathe because you smell like..." You trailed off. "Well you certainly smell like something."

You held him at arm's length as you brought him over to your bathroom door down a hall. Spamton just hung there limply the entire time, slowly swaying back and forth real goofy-like. "Alright, you stinky little man-thing. You go in there and do your thing and I'll go get a towel and spare clothes and set it outside the door." You told him, placing him in the room and making your way over to the tap. You turned it to a warm temperature and blocked the drain to prevent any water from escaping. You then wiped your slightly moist hands on your pants and stood, turning to Spamton.

He stared up at you with his usual empty look in his eyes. Not that you could see them, but you could tell he's never had a single original thought in that noggin of his. You found his cluelessness adorable.

"Alright," You began, making your way from the bathroom. "Turn the water off when it's full, yadda yadda, and lock the door. I don't want to walk in on you like some kind of cliche trope. I don't wanna see that. Got it?"

"Yes, I [Get your deals now!!]" Then it went silent again, minus the sound of the running water in the background, with him, just staring up at you.

"Okay... have fun then ig." You left the bathroom, closed the door behind you, and began to venture to your bedroom, making sure to snag one of the pink towels from a cupboard while you were there.

You opened the door to your bedroom, not wasting a second before making your way over to your closet. You doubt you'd have anything that'd fit him perfectly, but some older clothes should do the trick. Digging through the unorganized mess, you managed to find an old t-shirt of one of the most popular bands, IBM 704, which was also the only band. Their songs just consisted of a beeping sound every few seconds with a flat bass line. You also found some shrunken sweatpants with hotdogs stitched all over the fabric. Perfect.

You folded the clothes and the towel as neatly as possible and set them outside the door. By then the water had stopped and it was silent, thank God. Just as you were about to walk away you heard your name being called from inside the bathroom.

You stopped and studied the door with a brow quirked. "Yeah?"

"I forgor how to bath." He stated.

You sighed nasally. Well, this is original. "Uh, do you want me to help you?"

"Yeah [No. Yes. No. Yes.]" He replied simply.

"Alright, I'm coming in." You hesitantly reached for the door and went in, doing everything to avoid eye contact.

"You can look, I'm smooth like a Ken doll." Spamton stated bluntly, sensing your discomfort.

Oh word, ight this is completely fine now. You looked down and the little man's hair could be spotted sticking out from the absolute behemoth of bubbles floating on the water's surface. You were bamboozled, stricken with confusion, befuddled, confounded. You didn't recall putting bubbles in the bath, let alone an amount that excessive.

You looked to the ground to find your soap container tossed across the tile and empty of its contents. Also noting the clothes strewn across the ground carelessly.

You forced your eyes to not roll into the back of your head and sighed, kneeling next to the bathtub and grabbing a shampoo bottle that, fortunately, was untouched. You wet his hair, which was the only thing visible in the mountain of foam, and began scrubbing it. You regarded how slimy and greasy his hair felt when it came into contact with the shampoo and how much dirt caked your hands and began seeping into the water below. You probably should've worn gloves.

Once you were done scrubbing his hair, you rinsed it out, and then went back to shampoo it again, just to make sure you got everything, because damn was this little garbage dweller disgusting.

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Now you were sitting in your living room, scrunched up like an egg on your loveseat with a blanket wrapped tightly around your form. You were enjoying only the finest of classics; Despicable Me ™. You nearly dozed off multiple times, but you had to stay up until Spamton came out of the bathroom, you didn't usually have guests over, but you at least knew how to be a good host.

At around 1 in the morning, you heard the bathroom door open, then close. A few minutes later, the door creaked open again, and out walked Spamton, looking way better than before. He walked over to the couch and clambered up to sit.

"So, how was it-" You began but was cut off at the sound of Spamton's cartoonish breathes. Mans passed out the second he sat down, what an unbothered legend.

"Snore, mi mi mi mi mi. Snore, mi mi mi mi mi." He snored goofily.

You smiled slightly, turned off your TV, and curled up on the couch. You were suddenly very fatigued all of a sudden and didn't have the energy to walk to your bed, so you decided to just rest here.

Your eyes clamped shut and eventually, you were lulled to a dreamless sleep.